


To See a World in a Grain of Sand

by Em_hrtly



Series: Pete's the Dad, Boogie Woogie Woogie [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Break Up, But the OC is a baby, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Irondad, Legal Inaccuracies, MJ’s Mom Is A Bitch, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentioned Consensual Sex, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, OC, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Questionable Medical Jargon, Single Parent Peter Parker, Slightly OOC MJ, Swearing, Teen Pregnancy, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, Unplanned Pregnancy, no beta we die like men, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_hrtly/pseuds/Em_hrtly
Summary: “Whatever you’ve done we can deal with it together, but you’ve gotta talk to me. I can't help if I don’t know what’s going on.” Peter hesitated. When Tony spoke again his tone was soft. “You know you can tell me anything, Pete.”There was a pause.“It’s MJ.”Tony was confused, but remained silent, not wanting to spook Peter before he said more. Had the pair broken up? If that were the case, why would Peter be worried about Tony being disappointed? He couldn’t see why anything to do with MJ would have Peter in such a state, unless…“She’s pregnant,” Peter choked out.Or, how will MJ and Peter deal with the prospect of becoming teen parents? For Peter, family means everything. But, what happens when MJ doesn't feel the same?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Oc, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & OC
Series: Pete's the Dad, Boogie Woogie Woogie [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766566
Comments: 101
Kudos: 344





	1. Saturday 14th December 2024

_To see a world in a grain of sand.  
And a heaven in a wildflower,  
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.  
And eternity in an hour._

William Blake

Saturday 14th December 2024

Tony glanced at the digital clock illuminated on the far wall of the workshop before looking back to his hologram and inputting the final couple lines of code. He’d been working for most of the day, timing his sessions carefully around Peter coming and going from the Tower to keep the project away from the teenager’s curious eyes. Christmas was only just over a week away and he was determined to keep Peter’s gift a surprise, no matter how difficult his nosy kid made that feat.

His eyes shifted back to the project, passing briefly over the photo frame that had pride of place on his desk. The image was of Peter, slumped over his desk across from Tony’s in the lab, his head resting on his outstretched arm, using the limb as a pillow. His E.D.I.T.H. glasses were askew, digging into the side of the kid’s nose as he slept, his mouth hanging open. Tony stood behind him in an almost identical pair of glasses, giving the person holding the camera a wide smile and a double thumbs-up as he lent over Peter’s sleeping frame. The photo was one of his favourites.

The idea for Peter’s glasses had come to him before The Blip when he and the rest of the Avengers – and the overly lifelike Build-A-Bear, Rocket – had been working on throwing together the plan that would allow them to use the Time-Space GPS to travel through the Quantum Tunnel.

For the five years since The Snap, Tony had had no hope. He had lost Peter, his kid, the one person he loved more than anything in the world. He had resigned himself to a life of darkness and sorrow, because how could he ever be happy again when he had lost the one thing that made his life worthwhile? The one thing he had vowed to protect, above anything else?

And then Rogers, Nat and Tiny-Giant-Man had turned up to the cabin he had hidden away in for so long and given Tony hope again. Just a spark, at first. But it was a spark that grew quickly, engulfing Tony relentlessly until he could think of nothing else other than that tiny sliver of hope that he might be able to see Peter again.

So, he got to work.

He cracked time-travel in a few hours and had the Time-Space GPS ready to go after another few. The more he thought about the possibility of getting Peter back, the harder he worked. There was a chance. It was slim, minute even, but it was there, and that was good enough for Tony.

But, the more Tony thought about the possibility of getting Peter back, the more he realised how dangerous what they were about to attempt truly was. Yes, there was a chance he would get Peter back. But he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t make it himself. It was, of course, a sacrifice Tony was willing to make to ensure that his kid, and the other fifty per cent, would be able to live.

But, Peter had already lost so much in his short life; first his parents, then his uncle. When his aunt had been diagnosed with an extremely aggressive form of cancer at the start of Peter’s Sophomore year, he was sure the kid would finally break. Tony had taken Peter under his wing more than ever before, organising lab days, training sessions and movie marathons, anything to give the kid a break from watching his last living relative fade away before his eyes. It was only a couple of months after her diagnosis that May had asked to speak with Tony privately. It was then, with her prognosis deteriorating by the day, that she had asked him to look after Peter after she was gone.

“You’re all he has left,” May had said.

Despite being out of his depth beyond belief and scared shitless, Tony agreed.

It was only a week after their conversation that May Parker passed away – as though knowing there would be someone left to look after Peter had granted her the peace of mind to let go – and Tony had adopted Peter.

The kid had been devastated. It had taken Tony at least two weeks to coax Peter out of his room for anything that wasn’t May’s funeral or the very occasional meal. He stopped going to school, he stopped going out as Spider-Man, he stopped seeing his friends. For a really long time, it was brutal, and Tony had wondered if Peter would ever recover.

But, somehow, they got through it. Peter was resilient, stronger than anybody Tony had ever met. He grieved, but he grew, eventually throwing himself back into school, making up for the missed time and reintegrating himself with his friends and decathlon team. He slowly began patrolling again, just for a couple of hours here and there, until his confidence grew, and then it was as though he’d never been away. Of course, there were still dark days. Days where the memories of loss would come crashing down anew, sweeping Peter away with them. Tony was always there, comforting and cradling Peter in his arms, and thankfully, those occasions had slowly become less and less.

As Peter grew, so did Tony. He grew further and further away from the image of Howard he was so afraid that he would replicate, and into the type of person he never dreamed he would be able to become.

A parent.

And, as Peter often told him, a _good one_.

And Tony felt love for Peter. Real love. The kind that transcended worlds and universes and didn’t disappear at the first sign of trouble – here one day, gone the next – it simply _was_. It was infinite and absolute. The kind of love only parents knew.

Then Thanos had snapped.

And Tony’s universe had been ripped apart.

Five torturous years passed until a new hope had been delivered, bringing an unfathomable danger with it. A danger Tony knew he might not come back from.

So, alongside the designing the Time-Space GPS and planning their leap through the Quantum Tunnel, Tony built something to keep Peter safe if he…couldn't.

The glasses.

They were almost identical to Tony’s own – a feature he hoped Peter would appreciate – holding a unique AI he had named E.D.I.T.H., with access to Stark Industries security, defence and tactical intelligence systems. If he ended up being unable to protect Peter, he knew that SI and E.D.I.T.H. would be able to.

So, with a contingency plan in place in the form of E.D.I.T.H., Tony and the team set about executing their plan.

They used the Pym particles to retrieve the stones and… it worked.

Tony created a gauntlet strong enough to hold them and… it worked.

Bruce snapped his fingers to bring back the fifty per cent and… it worked.

It _worked_.

It didn’t matter that a battle raged around him or that the compound was obliterated or that they were fighting for their lives _again_. When Tony saw Peter swing through Doctor Strange’s portal, it was the happiest moment of his life. He was there, _alive_ , and for the first time in five years, Tony could breathe again. 

The battle raged on, but despite their numbers, they were losing. Thanos was just too strong. And Tony knew what he had to do.

The funny thing about being a parent was that, if you were doing it right, it was unconditional. There was nothing you wouldn’t give, nothing you wouldn’t do, to save your child. And Tony knew that he would give his life for Peter’s. He had spent the five years since The Snap _wishing_ that he could.

So, when Tony raised his hand, Infinity Stones in place, and looked Thanos in the eye, he wasn’t scared. He was happy that he had had the opportunity to meet Peter Parker and grateful to May for trusting him with the most precious thing in her life. He felt peaceful in the knowledge that Peter would be safe and looked after, by Rhodey and Pepper and the team but also, partly by him through E.D.I.T.H. and SI.

He felt hopeful, that whenever Peter put on the glasses, his kid would think of him.

So, Tony thought of Peter and snapped. And it had hurt. A _lot_.

When he woke up days later in a Wakandan hospital, minus an arm but still alive, with Peter slumped in the chair at his bedside, he knew it had all been worth it.

The recovery had been slow and painful and arduous. His wound had mostly healed within a few weeks thanks to Wakanda’s advanced technology and techniques but getting himself used to a life with only one arm had been tough. Peter was by his side the entire time, a constant reminder that his sacrifice had been worth it, but Tony was an inventor, an engineer, a mechanic. He relied on his hands for his work and he needed both of them. Princess Shuri had offered to produce him a prosthesis – it wouldn’t be her first, having done the same for Barnes – but Tony had refused. He wanted to do it himself back in New York, for no reason really, other than to prove that he could. 

He was scarred now too, the Infinity Stones insisting on leaving behind nearly as much as they took. The scars almost reached his face, but thankfully stopped just short. Unlike normal scars, they weren’t white, but rather deep bruised versions of colours like red and blue and green – reminders of the stones – leaving Tony with trails from his stump, across his chest and up his neck. Tony didn’t mind them so much; they, and the loss of Tony’s arm, were a small price to pay to bring Peter back to life.

It had been over a year since the Battle of Earth, as the press loved to call it, and other than Peter’s little European battle against Mysterio, things had been pretty quiet on the whole bad-guys-trying-to-take-over-the-world front. And even though it had just been another traumatic experience to add to Peter’s ever-growing list of traumatic experiences, the kid’s trip to Europe just before his Senior year at school hadn’t been a total dud. He’d managed to come back home with his long-time crush MJ as his actual girlfriend, which in Peter’s eyes, had made the whole near-death experience thing totally worth it.

Tony liked MJ. Sure, she was scary as hell, but she was good for Peter. The past year had been tough on the kid. Adjusting back to normal life was difficult for any of the fifty per cent, but Peter had the final battle with Thanos, almost losing Tony and his run-in with Mysterio to deal with on top, and Tony knew, no matter how hard Peter tried to hide it, that everything he’d been through weighed on the kid.

The nightmares were evidence of that.

MJ helped a lot. She dragged Peter out of his room to do actual activities that actual teenagers did. She made Peter smile, made him happy, and gave him something other than Spider-Man to think about.

Tony was especially thankful for MJ for insisting that Peter accompany her to the Rockefeller Centre to go ice-skating that evening because it gave Tony a few extra hours to work on the kid’s Christmas present in peace. With the coding complete, Tony inserted the chip into the handle of Peter’s gift, using his right hand – his prosthetic hand – to hold the unit in place while his left hand closed the casing. He placed the gift on its matching stand and sat back to admire his work. A Lightsaber. A fully functioning, life-sized Lightsaber. The kid was going to _freak_.

Tony grabbed the gift and walked over to the barely used filing cabinet in the corner of the lab, placing the Lightsaber handle in one of the draws carefully and covering it with a few probably important documents. The cabinet didn’t have any special security features, it barely even had a lock, but it was the only place Tony knew Peter wouldn’t snoop, making it the perfect gift-hiding spot.

Satisfied with a job well done, Tony made his way to his room to get changed. He wasn’t expecting Peter back for at least another couple of hours, but he liked to wait up to make sure he got home okay. Spider-Man or not, Tony had found he couldn’t rest easy until he knew his kid was back from his adventures in the city safely.

He removed his Iron Arm, as Peter has dubbed it, and placed it on the stand in his closet. It was one of many. Once he had mastered the intricacies of creating an arm that was both practical and usable in and out of the lab, he had set about making at least a dozen more, and they all had their own stands within his closet. Some had interchangeable hand attachments which made some jobs in the lab a lot easier, others just replicated a normal hand, intended more for casual use. Many had their own colour schemes too. His everyday arm sported the classic hot rod red and gold of his Iron Man suits, of course, but others had a more subtle colour scheme, like the all-black he used for fancy dinners and charity galas. A particular favourite of his was his blue and red arm – Spider-Man colours – which he liked to wear to Peters academic decathlon competitions as a little inside joke between him and his kid.

With his arm safely stored away, Tony changed into a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and a threadbare AD/DC t-shirt. He settled himself in the living room, instructing F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the TV on low in the background, and grabbed his Starkpad, planning to work on some SI designs Pepper had been badgering him about for the past couple of days.

It felt like no time at all had passed when F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke up, alerting him that Peter had entered the lobby and was on his way up to their penthouse, as per her protocol. Tony checked the time in the top left corner of his tablet screen, noting that only half an hour had passed since he’d come up from the lab.

He heard the penthouse elevator doors open and the squeak of wet sneakers on the hardwood floor, heading in his direction.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, his eyes still fixed on the blueprints on his tablet as Peter entered the living room. “Wasn’t expecting you back so soon, you guys have fun?”

Tony braced himself, ready for the onslaught of energy that Peter produced whenever he spent an evening out with MJ or Ned doing real-life, normal teenager activities. One of Peter’s favourite hobbies was coming home and filling Tony in on every tiny little thing he and his friends had gotten up to, from the hotdog stand that had been running out of mustard (“I mean, how do they expect anyone to eat a hotdog without mustard? It’s a travesty I tell you, a travesty!”) to the ant he had spotted by a bench in Central Park, trying to carry an entire potato chip that Peter had dropped (“I thought for a second it could have been one of Mr Lang’s buddies, but I couldn’t see a tiny saddle anywhere.”). Honestly, sometimes Tony felt like _he’d_ been out with the kid, his play-by-plays were so thorough.

Tony typed a couple more things into the Starkpad before he realised Peter hadn’t replied. He looked up as Peter gave a pitiful sniff, startled at the sight before him. The kid was a mess. A tears streaming, nose running, soaked through to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, mess. Tony felt his stomach lurch as he took in Peter’s face. He was sickly pale, his eyes wide as they brimmed with tears and bore into Tony helplessly.

Tony sprung to his feet, grabbing a knitted blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapping it tightly around Peter’s sodden frame and he guided him to sit down.

“Kid,” Tony started, his voice tinged with panic, “talk to me, what happened?”

A moment passed. Tony was about to repeat himself when Peter finally spoke up.

“I fucked up, Tony,” he whispered. A silent tear slid down his cheek as he stared straight ahead, eyes wide. “Like, I’ve _really_ fucked up.”

Tony felt a lead weight land in his stomach. He’d never seen Peter like this, so distraught and hopeless, even after all the crap he’d been through. And it scared him shitless.

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, trying to keep his voice steady as he pulled Peter closer, “it’s okay. Whatever you’ve done, we can deal with it, Pete.”

Peter shook his head jerkily. “Not this,” he breathed. “You-you're going to be so disappointed in me,” Peter sobbed as his face crumpled.

Tony cupped the back of Peter’s neck, forcing their eyes to meet. “Pete, you could _never_ disappoint me. Never, okay?” Tony said, conviction flooding his voice. “Whatever you’ve done we can deal with it together, but you’ve gotta talk to me. I can't help if I don’t know what’s going on.” Peter hesitated. When Tony spoke again his tone was soft. “You know you can tell me anything, Pete.”

There was a pause.

“It’s MJ.”

Tony was confused, but remained silent, not wanting to spook Peter before he said more. Had the pair broken up? If that were the case, why would Peter be worried about Tony being disappointed? He couldn’t see why anything to do with MJ would have Peter in such a state, unless…

“She’s pregnant,” Peter choked out.


	2. Friday 20th December 2024

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, welcome back!
> 
> I'd just like to say a massive thank you for your reaction to the first chapter! It got a lot more attention than I was expecting, and every single comment and kudos honestly means more to me than I can say! <3
> 
> I’m pretty nervous to post this, mostly because I feel like this chapter sets up the story to go in a different direction that I suspect some of you are expecting. I’m not trying to big it up and claim to have written anything groundbreaking lmao, but I just hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. 
> 
> TW: Please be aware that this next chapter features a couple of very brief mentions of abortion. It's extremely minor, but if that's something that might bother you then please proceed with caution.

It had taken almost a week to arrange a meeting with MJ and her mom. Apparently, ‘not everybody is a multi-billionaire who can rearrange their entire schedule at the drop of a hat’. Who knew?

Tony had only had the displeasure of speaking to MJ’s mother for barely ten minutes, when he phoned her to discuss the meeting, and could already tell the woman was going to be difficult.

After being made aware of Peter and MJ’s situation, Tony had immediately begun trying to set up a meeting between the two families, assuming that Ms Jones would be just as keen as himself to get the two parties together to discuss their next steps. To his surprise, MJ’s mother had hardly seemed interested in the fact that her teenage daughter was pregnant, and had made it very clear that their little ‘get together’, as she had so aptly dubbed it, was a huge inconvenience to her.

It had been almost a week since Peter had come home and dropped the baby-bombshell. Tony had spent hours that fateful night calming the kid down enough to tuck him into bed, before immediately calling Pepper and asking her to come home early from her conference. Despite no longer being together romantically, she still remained one of his closest friends and confidants. She was family, had been for a long time, and if this didn’t count as a family emergency, Tony wasn’t sure what did. Pepper was home within twelve hours and dove straight into comforting Peter and helping Tony get things organised, alongside continuing to run his company.

Tony called Rhodey, too. His lifelong best friend assured him he’d be back in New York to help out as soon as he was able, although being in the thick of a War Machine mission in the Middle East meant Tony wasn’t sure when that would be. He hoped it would be soon.

The six days that passed between the revelation and the meeting were a blur, going by incredibly quickly but simultaneously, infuriatingly slowly. Tony spent most of the week assuring a pale and teary-eyed Peter that yes, he was shocked, but no, he wasn’t mad. To Tony’s horror, that had been Peter’s biggest fear initially; that Tony would be so angry and disappointed that he would kick Peter to the curb. (“Kid, I literally, basically single-handedly, invented time travel to bring you back to life. I’m not kicking you out.”).

And it was the truth. Tony wasn’t mad. At first, he thought he probably should be – that was the feeling you were meant to get when you discovered your teenage son had gotten his girlfriend pregnant, right? – but the feeling just never came. He supposed that when you were literally willing to give your life for someone, that person became pretty faultless in your eyes. He loved Peter more than anything, and he _knew_ the kid – great in school, polite, responsible, literally spends his spare time protecting the little guy and garnering little to no thanks for it – so Tony knew that Peter would have taken every precaution he had made the kid aware of during the very awkward (for Peter) ‘birds and the bees’ talk he had given the kid a few months ago.

The talk had occurred a couple of weeks after Peter had returned from his life-threatening jaunt in Europe.

The kid was a few weeks away from turning seventeen.

With his first-ever girlfriend.

Whose window he could literally climb into at any point without any parent or responsible adult being aware.

Yeah, Tony had decided they definitely needed to have _the talk_.

Honestly, it had been hilarious, at least from Tony’s point of view. A person didn’t earn the kind of sordid reputation that Tony had in his pre-Iron Man days by being embarrassed to talk about sex. Peter, on the other hand, had been beet-red and spluttering like a hounded nun. Still, despite the embarrassment, Tony was pretty sure he’d gotten his point across. Although considering recent revelations, perhaps that wasn’t as true as he’d like it to be.

No, Peter was a smart kid. Even without Tony giving him the sex talk, he was sure the kid was sensible enough to know what a condom was.

Tony was more than willing to bet that the baby situation had occurred accidentally, a result of the famous Parker Luck the kid was always going on about, rather than because of Peter’s irresponsibility.

Peter confirmed Tony’s theory during the week leading up to the meeting, assuring the man, through reddening cheeks one night, that he and MJ had been sure to be careful the mere handful of times they’d had sex – or ‘done it’ as Peter had so eloquently and maturely put it. Tony knew he was telling the truth. Accidents like this happened every day. Hell, Tony had been lucky it had never happened to _him_ considering his past. Of course, of all the teenagers it could have happened to, it had to be _his_ teenager.

 _Maybe the kid’s swimmers are as enhanced as he is,_ Tony had thought to himself wryly.

Peter had spent the week building up to the meeting in a near-constant flurry of panic. Sometimes the panic was manic; he would rush around at breakneck speed, doing anything and everything to try and distract himself, both literally and figuratively climbing the walls, although he refused to leave the penthouse. He’d even taken to stress baking, and Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten so many chocolate chip cookies. Still, he’d do anything to placate the kid, so eat cookies he did.

The rest of the time, Peter’s panic was distraught. He would curl up as close as he could next to Tony and sob, breathless apologies pouring out of him every few minutes as Tony offered whispered reassurances and held his kid tight. A couple of times during the week, Tony had woken to find Peter curled up in the covers at the foot of his bed. The habit had become a common coping mechanism for Peter during the first few months after the Battle of Earth, never wanting to be far from wherever Tony was, but it had been months since it had last happened.

Tony did what he could, but mostly he just felt helpless.

Waiting for the meeting between the two families left him and Peter in an odd kind of limbo; neither of them knowing what the result would be from their upcoming encounter with MJ and her mother. Tony had tried to get Peter to contact the girl, find out where her head was at regarding the situation, so they at least had some information to go from, but Peter refused.

And, in all honesty, Tony wasn’t really sure where Peter’s head was at either. He had tried to broach the subject with the teen multiple times during the week, with little to no success. He knew the kid well enough to guess that he would likely be against MJ having an abortion if that could be avoided – after all he had been through, family meant everything to Peter.

A couple of times during the week, Tony had noticed Peter staring wistfully into the distance whenever a commercial featuring a baby came on or locking his phone screen quickly when Tony walked past, but not before the elder man caught a glimpse of the Reddit thread dedicated to a teenage father AMA. Peter hadn’t said anything out loud, but if Tony were still a betting man, he would place all his money on the kid wanting to keep the baby. It was almost as though Peter was too afraid to say the words out loud, too afraid to get his hopes up in case MJ was thinking something completely different.

Ultimately, Tony and Peter both knew the final say would lie with MJ.

Her body, her choice.

And who in the world knew what she would choose.

So, they were going in blind. Which was why, as Tony pulled his most nondescript Audi into the parking lot of an unremarkable New York office complex, he couldn’t deny that he was nervous.

Tony had picked the venue for their meeting, choosing to hire a conference room in the city. He had initially considered inviting MJ and her mother to the Tower but thought that the coming together of the families might go more smoothly on neutral ground. The pit in the bottom of his stomach told him that, either way, that had probably been wishful thinking.

He pulled into one of the many empty car parking spaces – with mere days until Christmas, the majority of the staff that usually occupied the office building were already on their winter break.

He walked into the lobby with Peter and Pepper by his side. The CEO of his company had initially been unsure about joining their little meeting, not wanting MJ and her mother to feel outnumbered. Peter had insisted she come along, pointing out over dinner one evening that she was a part of their odd little family no matter what, and that he would like her to be there. Tony had agreed and had gone on to add, after having the displeasure of speaking to Ms Jones on the phone, that it was likely a level-headed mediator might come in handy.

They met MJ and her mother in the lobby, Peter sticking as close to Tony’s side as he could without actually touching the man. There were no greetings. Instead, their group made their way over to the elevator before following Pepper down a long, thin corridor which would lead them to their allocated conference room.

The room wasn’t large, although it was big enough to fit a sizable oak-effect table which Tony estimated could easily seat around twenty people. Instead, it became the temporary home to just five, with MJ and her mother automatically taking a seat at one side of the table, and Tony’s small group mirroring their actions on the opposite side. Tony manoeuvred Peter with a gentle hand at the base of his back, guiding him to take the seat between himself and Pepper, ensuring his kid protection on both sides.

Their odd group sat in silence for a few moments, neither party wanting to break the awkward silence and be the first to speak. Peter stared at his hands, avoiding eye contact with everybody, especially MJ and her mother.

Tony took a moment to take in the face of the woman that until now had been nothing but an unpleasant voice on the other end of the phone. The woman had not one ounce of the natural beauty her daughter possessed. The lines that covered her caramel skin were deep and harsh. She wore a permanent scowl which created cavernous lines between her eyebrows, giving her face a look of constant disgust.

 _If looks could kill, that woman would for sure be doing life in prison right about now,_ Tony thought.

MJ didn’t look at her mom. Tony wasn’t sure, but it seemed to him as though she would have preferred to come to this meeting alone. The teen was tense and strained in a way that Tony had never witnessed before in all the time that he had known her. He couldn’t help but get the impression that the relationship between the mother and daughter was not a particularly good one. It was clear MJ was trying to maintain her notoriously indifferent attitude – a coping mechanism that Tony himself was all too familiar with – but the way her eyes flitted around the room and her fingers fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her sweater gave her away. She was just as nervous as Peter, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Tony was trying to keep up his ‘I’m a billionaire and nothing you can say or do will shake me’ attitude, but he knew he was probably failing. This was his kid they were here to discuss. The plans they made in this room would affect Peter for the rest of his life. Of course, Tony was nervous as hell about that.

Pepper was the only one in the room that seemed in control of their emotions. But, then again, she was Pepper. Tony had never seen her look anything other than perfectly poised and professional, in public at least.

After a few more moments, Tony couldn’t take the tension anymore. He cleared his throat and forced himself to break the silence.

“Thank you, MJ and Ms Jones, for agreeing to meet with us today,” he began, trying to fill his voice with the confidence he was known for without coming across as too formal. If he was uncomfortable, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Peter was feeling. He’d do everything in his power to take that burden from the kid, as best he could.

He didn’t bother asking if Mr Jones would be joining them; MJ’s mother hadn’t mentioned him on the phone, and Peter had subsequently informed him that MJ’s father hadn’t been in the picture for years.

Ms Jones scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Not like we had much choice, considering what that boy of yours has done,” she said, gesturing sharply towards Peter.

The kid on the other end of her venomous words ducked his head, and Tony felt hot anger flare in his chest.

“Mom,” MJ admonished quietly, clearly uncomfortable with her mother’s choice of words. Or perhaps just uncomfortable with her mother’s presence altogether.

“With all due respect, Ms Jones, it takes two to tango. Peter knows he’s responsible for his part, but this isn’t all on him,” Tony replied, attempting to keep his voice civil but failing miserably.

Ms Jones ignored both Tony and her daughter, scoffing once more and directing her gaze towards the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows as if no one in the room was worth even a scrap of her attention.

“Tony and Peter wanted to meet with you today,” Pepper began, taking control of the conversation before Tony could say something he would regret, “to discuss how you and MJ are feeling, Ms Jones, and to make a plan moving forward.”

“My _feelings_ ,” Ms Jones sneered mockingly as she whipped her head back around to face the group, “are that my daughter was never involved in anything like this before she met _him_.”

“ _Mom_!”

“He,” Tony began, leaning over the table threateningly, “is my _son_. And I’d appreciate it if you’d have a little respect.”

Peter sank even further into his chair as Pepper reached over him to place a calming hand on Tony’s shoulder, applying firm pressure until the man was once again seated. 

Tony couldn’t believe the _audacity_ of this woman. Who the hell did she think she was, talking to Peter like that?

“Why don’t we all take a few deep breaths and start again?” Pepper attempted to mediate. Despite her best efforts, Tony’s experienced ears could hear the disguised heat in her voice. “There’s no need for any unpleasantness.”

Ms Jones huffed as she leant back in her seat.

Pepper, seemingly realising she was getting nowhere fast with the Jones’, turned her attention to Peter, who looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole. “Peter, would you like to share how you’re feeling?”

Tony could see the boy itching to say no, but, courageous as ever, Peter steeled himself and sat up a little straighter in his seat. Tony discreetly rested his hand on the kid’s bouncing knee beneath the table, out of view of the others, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb in the hopes of offering Peter as much comfort as he was able.

“I, um, firstly, MJ,” Peter stumbled, looking at the girl in question with overwhelming sincerity in his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I – I thought we were safe, you know?” he said, colour rising in his cheeks.

“Ha! And I thought you two were supposed to be intelligent.” Ms Jones mocked.

MJ looked at her mother sharply. “Mom, just stop!”

Tony gave his kid’s knee a gentle squeeze. _I’m proud of you, keep going._ Peter cleared his throat. “But – but obviously we weren’t. Safe. Not enough, anyway.” Peter cringed before taking a breath and collecting himself before he continued. “It’s your body MJ, and I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

Tony felt his heart swell with pride at Peter’s words.

“But I think if you did decide to have… it? Him or her? That I would – I would want to be involved. I would want to be its dad, you know?” Peter’s gaze dropped to his lap, suddenly embarrassed in the wake of his confession.

There was a moment of almost revering silence before anyone spoke again.

“Well done, Peter,” Pepper said quietly. Tony swore he could see some mist in her eyes, but when he blinked it was gone. Maybe it had been in his own. “MJ,” Pepper continued, turning her attention towards the girl, “how do you feel, sweetheart?”

MJ stared at Peter for a moment, an emotion Tony couldn’t quite decipher flitting across her face for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a mom,” she declared, her voice steady and sure. Tony saw Peter’s shoulders deflate slightly out of the corner of his eye. He gave Peter’s knee a consoling squeeze under the table where his hand was still resting. MJ must have noticed Peter’s reaction too because she quickly continued. “I don’t want to be a mom. I never have and that hasn’t changed. But… that doesn’t mean you can’t be a dad, Peter.”

Peter’s eyebrows creased in confusion, and Tony was sure his own expression was similar. What did that even mean?

“I always thought that if this ever happened to me, I would get rid of it, have an abortion, you know? But… but if there's a chance this baby could have a loving family, without me in it, then that’s a solution I can live with.”

“Michelle, what on earth are you talking about?” Ms Jones cut in.

MJ ignored her.

“MJ,” Pepper said gently, “are you trying to say—”

“That I’d have the baby if Peter wanted to keep it? Yeah,” MJ nodded, “but I don’t want to be involved once the baby is born. I meant what I said. I don’t want to be a mom. I have a lot of things I’d like to do with my life but becoming a mother has never been one of them.”

“Michelle, you’re being ridiculous. You want to be a walking incubator for the boy that knocked you up?” Ms Jones said scathingly.

“Mom, just stop, okay? This is my body. It’s my decision. _Mine_.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, young lady, you’re still a minor and…”

“It’s still my body, mom. And I’ll be eighteen by the time it’s born.”

There was silence at MJ’s statement.

“When – when’s the due date?” Peter asked tentatively, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sometime in July, I think,” MJ replied, “I haven’t had an ultrasound or anything yet for an official date.” Peter, who was white as a sheet and clutching onto the armrests on his chair hard enough to leave finger marks, just nodded.

Silence engulfed the room once more.

“Maybe it would be best if we had a few minutes alone to discuss everything?” Tony suggested.

MJ nodded once before grabbing her mother’s arm, leading her into the hallway to give them some privacy.

In truth, Tony was grateful for a few moments to gather his own thoughts. He had never been expecting the meeting to go like this. In his mind, there had only been a handful of options – for the teens to terminate the pregnancy or for them to choose to bring up the baby together – MJ carrying a baby she had no intention of raising had definitely not been on his radar. Of course, adoption had always been an option, but somehow Tony knew that for Peter, living on the same planet as his child whilst not being involved in the baby’s life just wasn’t in the kid’s nature.

Tony let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Well, I’m not going to sugar-coat it, I was not expecting today to head in this direction.”

“Peter, honey,” Pepper said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, “what are you thinking?”

Peter’s voice shook as he spoke, finally able to express some of the emotion he’d been concealing from MJ and, more specifically, MJ’s mother. “I don’t know, I mean… it’s MJ’s body. If she doesn’t want to have the baby then… but, I don’t know. I mean, I never got to spend many years with my parents, but I think they always loved me and wanted me and… I think I want the baby? But – but I’m seventeen, I haven’t even graduated high school yet, what about money and college and getting a job and…” he trailed off. There was a pause, and then quietly; “isn’t it… kind of stupid for me to want a baby?”

Was it stupid for a kid who had never had a consistent family dynamic throughout the entirety of his short life to crave the presence of his child? A baby that would be a constant, be his flesh and blood, be the only other person on Earth to share his DNA?

Peter had so much love to give. Tony saw it every day. He saw it whenever Spider-Man took time out of his day to help old ladies across the street or reunite a mother with her bawling toddler on a busy sidewalk. He saw it when Peter Parker would head to bed after a long evening in the lab, hugging Tony close for a few moments, squeezing that little bit tighter just before letting go.

Tony knew how it felt to love a child. Was it stupid for a kid like Peter to crave that feeling? That unconditional love? Tony didn’t think so.

“It’s not stupid at all, Peter,” Pepper said softly, stealing the words right out of Tony’s mouth.

“And school, and college, and jobs? Those are all things we can figure out, Pete. Together. Whatever you decide, you won’t be alone,” Tony added. “And you know money isn’t an issue. You’re my kid, whether you like it or not,” Tony winked, a half-hearted attempt to break some of the tension in the room. Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a small smile playing on his lips. Tony could see some of the rigidity leave the teen’s shoulders at his words.

It had taken almost two years of being Tony’s kid – not including the five missing years of The Snap, obviously – but Peter was finally slightly more comfortable with Tony spending money on him for things other than absolute necessities. The stuff Tony knew about babies could probably be jotted down onto a napkin and he’d still have space left over, but one thing he was fairly sure of was that they weren’t cheap. Not that the money mattered to him of course, he would support Peter in any way he could if he decided to raise his child, and that included financially, but he wanted to make sure that Peter knew that implicitly.

“Whatever you decide, Pete, I’ll be there for you no matter what. So will Pepper,” the woman nodded along as he spoke, “and Rhodey and Happy. We’re a family and we’ve all got your back.” Tony watched as Peter blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. “So,” Tony continued, “If nothing else mattered – not school, not college, not jobs or money – what would you choose?”

Peter looked down to his lap, considering for a moment. Tony saw the exact moment that Peter made his decision; he watched as the kid sat up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath before looking into Tony’s eyes determinedly.

“I’d choose the baby.”

A few minutes later, MJ and her mother rejoined the group. They took their seats, MJ looking at Peter expectantly while Ms Jones once again stared out of the windows. The tension rolling off of the pair suggested they’d been using the few minutes alone to have a discussion of their own.

Pepper spoke first. “Thank you both, for allowing Peter a moment to gather his thoughts.”

MJ nodded, still looking at Peter. “So?” she asked.

Peter cleared his throat. “I – I want the baby. But, MJ, are you sure you…”

“I’m sure, Peter,” MJ interrupted, “I know it probably makes me sound like a total bitch, to turn around and say I want nothing to do with my baby. I don’t want to be a mom, Peter. I never have and I never will. But I won’t get rid of a baby that I know has the opportunity to be part of a family with you.”

Peter nodded.

“Of course,” Ms Jones interrupted, looking pointedly at Tony, “you’ll be covering all the medical expenses and anything else Michelle might need.”

“Of course,” Tony replied through gritted teeth. It went without saying that he would cover any and all expenses MJ might incur throughout her pregnancy; she would want for nothing and everything would be the best that money could buy. But Ms Jones didn’t have to be such an insufferable bitch about it.

“There will also be paperwork,” Pepper said, her gaze directed firmly at MJ’s mother, “that once signed will state you have no claim over the child.”

“Of course,” Ms Jones sneered, “are we done here?”

Tony nodded and the woman was out of the room before he could blink, without so much as a backwards glance.

“Sorry about her,” MJ said, “and… I know you must think I'm a horrible person for doing what I’m doing but… I just can't be a mom.” Her eyes shifted towards the door her own mother had just left through.

“We think no such thing, MJ,” Pepper assured her kindly. “But you might change your mind.”

“I won't.”

MJ stood, glancing at Peter and then at Tony.

“You have my number. We can… sort things out between the four of us. I’ll only get _her_ involved if some kind of consent form needs signing. There’ll be ultrasounds and stuff if you want to come,” she added, looking at Peter.

“Definitely,” Peter blinked.

“Okay then.”

And with that, she was gone.


	3. Sunday 20th July 2025

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for coming back and joining me for another chapter! Once again your response to the previous chapter was incredible, thank you so much to those of you who are enjoying reading this story as much as I’m enjoying writing it. Every comment, kudos, subscription, bookmark and hit means so so much to me, so thank you!
> 
> I’d also like to issue a quick apology to those of you that I may have mislead by originally tagging Peter/MJ! I tagged them that way because, obviously, for half of this fic they are together, but as you probably guessed from the last chapter and (spoiler alert) as you’ll see from this chapter, they don’t stay together. You’ll see I’ve now altered the tag to Peter & MJ. My intention for this series was always to make it more about Irondad rather than about Peter and MJ, and I’m sorry that I didn’t make that clearer from the beginning. I hope you can forgive me! 
> 
> I am not a doctor, nor have I ever given birth, so any and all medical terminology has basically been stolen from Grey’s Anatomy. 
> 
> Okay, enough rambling from me. On with the show…

Peter swung in an arch above the mugger, using the alleyway to his advantage as he landed and sprung from the wall, propelling himself towards the ski-mask-wearing man in front of him. It had been a quiet evening in Queens – especially considering it was still the weekend – until Karen had alerted him to a woman on her way home from work being threatened a couple of blocks away. Peter had swung over, secretly glad to have his mundane patrol interrupted by something a little more interesting. Awesome for him, less awesome for the innocent woman.

The mugger fell to the ground as Peter’s feet made contact with his chest. “Did your parents never teach you that it’s not nice to take things that aren’t yours?” Peter said, landing on the ground in a crouch. He swung a leg out, knocking the assailant’s own legs out from under him, causing him to land in a heap on the dirty floor of the alley. Peter finished the job by flinging a web in the man’s direction, which attached itself to his hand, effectively restraining him to the floor.

The man on the ground struggled, attempting to free himself from the web holding him.

“Stop squirming, dude. That stuff’s like Devil’s Snare, the more you struggle the worse it gets,” Peter said. “Are you a Harry Potter fan? I hope so because otherwise that reference will be like, totally lost on that little pea-brain of yours.”

The mugger didn’t reply. Funny how people were never that chatty when they were webbed up.

“Peter, you have an incoming phone call from Michele Jones,” came Karen’s voice through Peter’s mask.

“Yeah, Karen, put her through, please,” Peter said quickly.

Peter felt the ever-present knot in his stomach tighten. MJ’s due date had been July 16th. Four days ago. Apparently, it wasn’t all that unusual for first-time moms to go a few days over their due date, but despite near-constant reassurance from MJ’s OB/GYN that everything was fine, Peter was still on edge.

He heard a faint click as the call connected, and then MJ’s voice was filling his ears. “Peter?”

“Hey, MJ, everything okay?”

Despite being the very pregnant mother of his unborn child, Peter had been finding talking to MJ more and more awkward recently. After the uncomfortable meeting between their families just before Christmas, and a couple of weeks over winter break to think things over, they had both decided to accept the inevitable and end their budding relationship on mutual terms.

As the months had passed and MJ’s due date grew closer, Peter had realised how different and, in many ways, incompatible he and MJ were. MJ had remained steadfast about her choice to not be involved in their baby’s life once he or she was born, and while Peter had come to accept her decision, he certainly didn’t understand it. He had hardly gotten the chance to know his parents, and he couldn’t imagine damning his own child to the same fate.

For months he had felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, all he wanted to do was try and persuade MJ to be involved in their child’s life. Peter couldn’t help but think that she would come to regret her decision in time to come and he wanted his baby to grow up with two loving parents. But on the other hand, MJ was an adult – having just turned eighteen last month – and it was her body and it was her decision. If she said that she didn’t want to be involved, then he had to accept that, no matter how much he struggled to do so. 

The pairs drastically differing opinions had made many occasions in the months leading up to MJ’s due date extremely awkward. They had grown further and further apart; MJ looking into and applying to colleges while Peter shopped for and built baby furniture with Tony. Their lives had become so dramatically different that, by now, the only thing tethering the two of them together was the baby. Peter supposed that it would probably always be that way.

He was drawn back to the present by MJ’s next words.

“I’m pretty sure my waters just broke.”

Shit.

 _Shit_.

This was it.

It was really happening.

Labour. A baby. _His_ baby.

Shit. 

“Are you sure?” Peter asked breathlessly. He quickly threw another web towards the mugger still on the floor beneath him and signalled to Karen to alert to police to his location.

He could hear heavy breathing on the other end of the phone while he waited impatiently for a reply.

“Well, shit, Parker. I haven’t exactly done this before but if the puddle on the floor is anything to go by…” she paused, breathing deeply, “then _yes_ , I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Peter said as he began swinging back towards the Tower, attempting to sound calmer than he felt, “okay, I’m on my way, we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He heard the call disconnect as he swung as fast as he could towards the Tower, trying to beat down the panic that was bubbling inside his chest. The journey was a total blur, and before he knew it, he was swinging up onto the Tower’s balcony, throwing himself through the double doors that opened up into the living room and ripping off his mask in one slick movement.

“MJ’s gone into labour,” Peter breathed.

Tony, who had been lounging on the sofa in front of the TV, going over some SI paperwork by the looks of things, looked up with startled eyes before jumping into action immediately.

Their little family had been preparing for this moment for months and it was finally here.

“Okay, Pete, go get changed quickly. I’ll grab the bags and the car seat. Do you know if MJ has called Dr Montgomery?” Tony asked.

“Um, I’m not sure, she didn’t say,” Peter replied, pressing the spider insignia on his suit, and hopping down the hallway towards his room, attempting to walk and remove the suit simultaneously.

“Okay, okay,” he heard Tony reply from the room they had renovated into a nursery, right next door to Peter’s own room and across the hall from Tony’s, “no problem. F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Dr Montgomery, let her know to meet us at the hospital.”

“Right away, Boss.”

Peter, now dressed in a pair of yesterday’s dark blue jeans and Tony’s old grey MIT sweater, made his way back into the hallway, taking the hospital bag they’d had packed for weeks from Tony’s hands so that the elder man could grab his car keys.

They were in the car and on their way to MJ’s apartment in record time. Peter’s leg was bouncing up and down with nervous yet excited energy as he sat in the passenger seat of Tony’s most recent purchase; Audi’s latest model of 4x4, equipped with enough seats for a small football team (“With swimmers as strong as your, Pete, who knows how many rugrats you’ll be having. At least with a seven-seater we’ll be prepared,” Tony had joked much to Peter’s embarrassment) and all of the latest safety features a car could possess, plus some extras that Tony had added himself. Tony, despite Peter’s objection that one of the countless cars the elder man already owned would be fine for the baby, had insisted on the purchase. It was one of the many purchases the pair had made in preparation for Peter’s impending fatherhood.

MJ was already attempting to make her way down the stairs outside of her apartment building when Tony pulled the car up to the curb. Peter was out of the car and by MJ’s side in seconds. She was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting trousers, to accommodate her bump and to help her cope with the muggy July heat and a plain maternity t-shirt.

Grabbing the bags she was struggling to juggle – full of everything she would need for a hospital stay – Peter wrapped his arm around her waist to support her as she walked. The pair stopped every few steps, allowing MJ to breathe through the pain of her contractions, as they made their way towards the waiting car. He helped her into the back seat and, after throwing her bags in the trunk, slid in next to her to hold her hand.

Peter half expected to look back towards the apartment and see Ms Jones lurking and peeking through the lace curtains like some overzealous member of a neighbourhood watch, but when he glanced up as Tony quickly pulled away, the complex was dark and still. MJ had made clear that under no circumstances was her mother invited to the birth. Or even to the hospital.

Peter knew it was selfish to think so, but he was secretly glad that Ms Jones wouldn’t be making an appearance. Although he hardly knew what to expect when it came to watching someone give birth to your child, he really didn’t want MJ’s mom there ruining the moment with her scathing attitude and hateful comments. Thankfully, Ms Jones had signed all the paperwork necessary to ensure she had no legal claim over their child – while MJ may want nothing to do with the baby, Peter had still secretly feared that Ms Jones might be tempted to attempt to gain custody if only to spite him; the boy who got her daughter pregnant.

They’d never discussed it, but he knew Tony and Pepper must have shared the same fear because Pepper wasted no time in having the SI lawyers draw up the documents for MJ’s mother to sign. That had been months ago, just after Peter and MJ had returned to school after winter break, and Peter, thankfully, hadn’t had to see or interact with Ms Jones since.

There was an almost identical set of paperwork, ready for MJ to sign after the birth, which would ensure that Peter had full custody of their child and that MJ wouldn’t be able to try and challenge his custody in the future if she ever changed her mind about wanting to be a part of the baby’s life. The thought of his baby’s birth being marred by the signing of such paperwork gave Peter an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Somewhere, deep inside of himself, he still secretly hoped that once the baby was born MJ would change her mind and want to be involved in his or her life. She had remained steadfast in her decision, never once wavering in all the months leading up to the birth, but Peter couldn’t let go of the unfounded shred of hope that lived within him. He wanted his child to have everything in life, including the classic white picket fence nuclear family, but he had all but resigned himself to the fact that that would never happen.

In fact, MJ had been so sure of her decision, Peter had hardly found the paperwork she would be signing necessary. He didn’t think she would ever want to be in their child’s life, but if she did change her mind, later down the line, would that be so bad? Unfortunately, SI’s legal team had insisted that it _was_ necessary, and MJ had been more than happy with the arrangement. Who was Peter to argue with the experts? 

When he really thought about it though, despite not liking to admit it, he supposed it did make sense to have the legalities of the situation as airtight as possible. He was Tony Stark’s son, after all, adopted or not. And, unsurprisingly, that title came with _a lot_ of attention from the media. The last thing he needed was an unexpected custody battle that would undoubtedly be broadcast to the world.

That was why SI’s lawyers had been so insistent on the custody paperwork. So far, they had kept the news of the baby as far away from the media as they could, and while, granted, that still wasn’t as far as Peter had hoped, it was still better than nothing.

The press knew about Peter, at least, they knew that Tony Stark had adopted a teenager, but because he was still a minor, they weren’t allowed to release his name or image without explicit consent from either Peter himself or Tony. Unfortunately, the press (and the world) also knew that Peter was expecting a baby. Well, not him personally of course, but whatever.

The kids at Midtown were all aware that Peter had been adopted by Tony; after May had died, Tony’s new role in Peter’s life had been pretty difficult to hide from the students. And, while Peter found the attention from his classmates difficult to deal with at first, he knew that he could handle a few hundred nosy teenagers knowing about his new circumstances if it meant that the press and the rest of the world were kept mostly in the dark by his age. Then, when MJ had begun showing as her baby-belly grew… well, it hadn’t taken a genius to put two and two together and figure out that adopted son of Tony Stark had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant. Quite the scandal. Some kid or their fame-hungry parent had sold the story to the tabloids and their secret was out.

Despite being unable to name Peter, or MJ, or release any pictures revealing what either of the teenagers looked like, the press had a total field day. _#BabyStark_ had been the number one trending hashtag on Twitter for almost a week. Pepper had been forced to hold a press conference to put some of the more ludicrous rumours to rest and to ‘take back control of the narrative’, as she had put it.

That had been a few months ago, and while things had calmed down a lot since then, there was still at least one news report per week on every channel theorising over Baby Stark.

It had taken MJ’s relative anonymity, a plethora of well-placed NDA’s by Tony’s legal team and a couple of precisely-timed fabricated news stories to act as a distraction to keep MJ’s identity away from the press since she turned eighteen a month ago. Peter was already trying to mentally prepare himself for August; when he would turn eighteen himself and it would officially become open season for the press when it came to his personal life. MJ was an unknown, able to fade into the background of the story easily, but Peter, being the son of Tony Stark, knew he wouldn’t have that luxury.

He shuddered, trying to push down the thought as Tony pulled the car into the hospital parking lot.

Peter concentrated on helping MJ out of the car carefully while Tony grabbed the bags – the superior strength of his Iron Arm coming in extra handy – and rushed inside to check them in. They were led to the suite and met by the private OB/GYN that Tony had insisted on hiring.

At first, Tony had wanted his med-team at the Tower, headed up by the formidable Helen Cho, to be the ones to assist MJ through her pregnancy and the subsequent birth. And, while that would have certainly meant a lot less work for the SI legal team when it came to NDA’s, Helen had rightly pointed out that neither she nor any of her staff were specialists when it came to pregnancy.

Weird how that particular skill set had never come in handy for the Avengers.

Helen had instead recommended a private maternity hospital – one of the leading neonatal hospitals in the country – where she had a contact whose team would be more than happy to comply with the high profile case and Tony’s extensive NDA’s.

The contact, a fiery redheaded woman named Dr Montgomery, and her team had been with Peter and MJ through every ultrasound and check-up in the preceding months. Peter had thought an entire team of privately hired doctors and nurses was a bit of an overkill at first, but he had to admit that it had been reassuring to get to know the names and faces of the team that were going to be delivering the most precious thing in the world to him. 

Tony was led to a private waiting room down the hall, while Dr Montgomery set about getting MJ as comfortable as possible on the bed of the suite. A flurry of nurses Peter vaguely recognised wandered in and out, setting up various pieces of equipment, ready for whenever the action would begin.

As the next few hours passed, Peter felt like a spare part in an extremely well-oiled machine. Nurses flitted in and out, checking MJ’s vitals and the baby’s vitals, offering Peter cups of tea or coffee, periodically. Dr Montgomery would check MJ regularly to see how the labour was progressing. Peter heard ‘cervix’ and ‘placenta’ and ‘dilation’ and tried not to think too hard about what any of those words actually meant.

He supposed he would need to learn to be less squeamish if he was going to be changing diapers by this time tomorrow.

MJ spent the hours doing whatever she could to help herself feel more comfortable in between Dr Montgomery’s checks; she paced around the room, bounced on a birthing ball, sucked on the gas and air she’d been provided with, but nothing seemed to relieve the discomfort. All Peter could do was hold her hand and rub her back and assure her that she was doing amazing and that it would all be over soon.

As MJ’s contractions got closer and closer together, Dr Montgomery’s checks became more frequent. Apparently, they had to wait for the labour to progress to a certain point before what the doctor had described as ‘the real fun’ would begin. Peter didn’t watch many medical dramas, but he was pretty sure the next few hours weren’t going to be very fun at all, especially for MJ.

At almost three in the morning, Dr Montgomery finally deemed MJ dilated (God, Peter hated that word) enough, and guided the girl from the birthing ball and over onto the bed.

Peter moved to the head of MJ’s bed automatically, not wanting to get in the way of the doctor and nurses working at the business end. He held onto her hand and told her to squeeze as hard as she needed to, and how well she was doing, trying to keep the quiver from his voice.

This was it.

His life was about to be changed forever, and no amount of baby shopping or scans or research had prepared him for this moment.

His child was about to be born.

His baby.

They had been offered the opportunity to know the sex of the baby at an ultrasound months ago, but they had decided to keep it as a surprise. He was regretting that decision right about now.

There was already so much he didn’t know – how to change a diaper, how to warm up a bottle, what tummy time or kangaroo care or any of the other buzz words he had seen thrown around in books and on parenting forums _truly_ meant in practice rather than in theory – at least knowing the sex of the baby would have been a kind of anchor; a certainty he could have been sure of in one of the most unknowable times of his life.

 _Well_ , Peter thought to himself, _too late now!_

MJ squeezed his hand _hard_. Her face was red and sweaty, curls sticking to her forehead haphazardly as they broke free from her hair tie. She grimaced, teeth clenched, through the next contraction.

“Well done, Michelle, you’re going great, sweetheart,” Dr Montgomery encouraged from the bottom of the bed. “When your next contraction comes, I want you to push as hard as you can, okay? Push really deep, all the way into your bottom.”

MJ nodded stiffly, looking to Peter with unabashed fear in her eyes as she breathed through a moment of reprieve before the next contraction came. Peter could do nothing but stroke back the sweaty hair from her forehead with his free hand as the next contraction rippled through MJ’s body.

The contractions began coming quick and fast. MJ would push and groan and squeeze Peter’s hand as hard as she could, her face scrunched in pain through every action. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to Peter who could do nothing other than sit and watch helplessly as everyone else in the room did their assigned job, Dr Montgomery announced that she could see the crown of the baby’s head.

After a couple more pushes, Peter heard a startling cry rip through the room and froze, looking towards the bottom of the bed where his view was blocked by a sheet placed over MJ’s legs.

That was his baby.

His baby was taking their first breath.

_Alive._

_Breathing._

_Crying._

_His child._

Peter blinked away the sudden mistiness that had gathered in his eyes as a nurse walked forwards, carrying a precious bundle with her. She moved towards MJ, who shook her head tiredly before the nurse had the chance to place the baby in her arms, gesturing to Peter with a nod of her head.

“Not me,” she breathed, exhausted, “him.”

If the nurse was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Congratulations, Daddy,” she said gently, “It’s a girl.”

Peter positioned his arms instinctively as his daughter was placed into them for the first time.

A girl.

His baby.

His _daughter_.

After months of waiting, nervous and excited and apprehensive and every other emotion, his daughter was finally in his arms.

And she fit so perfectly it was like the space had been designed specifically for her.

Looking down at his baby girl, Peter tried to memorise every detail through his steadily burring eyes. He never wanted to forget this moment. He wanted to freeze time and live in this perfect minute forever. She was still kind of gross and gunky, but she was still the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen. Her eyes were scrunched shut and she grizzled a little, but she was perfect. So perfect. How had he managed to have a part in making something so perfect?

The bond was immediate and indescribable and inexorable, like an almost tangible thread that tethered Peter and the baby girl in his arms together. And he knew, without doubt, that the bond would never fade, never waver, never falter. It would be inevitable and indestructible forever. _His daughter._

“Hi, baby,” Peter whispered, tentatively stroking his finger down the newborn’s pink cheek. In the months leading up to this moment, he had thought of babies as so fragile, like glass that would crack into a million minuscule pieces at the slightest touch. But when he touched her, she was warm and soft and real and fragile, yes, but strong. So strong.

“I’m just going to take her to get cleaned up and have her checks, and then I’ll bring her straight back, okay hon?” the nurse interrupted quietly.

Peter surrendered the baby begrudgingly. His arms felt cold and empty without his daughter’s warm weight in them. He had lived on this Earth for almost eighteen years, feeling like a complete human being, but the empty space in his arms made him realise that he had never been complete, not really.

But he was now. 

His eyes followed the nurse as she walked towards the back of the room where the baby would be cleaned up and weighed, wishing more than anything that he could follow but knowing that he would only get in the way. He had a lifetime to spend with that little girl, he could afford the nurses a few minutes.

He felt something warm against his arm and looked over to see MJ reaching out to him. He took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Congratulations, Peter,” she said with a look in her eyes that he couldn’t decipher, “you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Peter wanted to tell her that she would make an amazing mother, that she should stay in New York and not go to college in the fall, and they could raise their daughter together…

“Thanks, MJ,” he said quietly, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it gently, “for everything.”

As Peter looked into her tired eyes, he thought about how lucky and how grateful he was that MJ had given him this opportunity. They might not be _in_ love anymore, but he loved her so much in that moment. The love swelled in his heart and brought tears to his eyes before the moment was interrupted by the piercing cry of a baby.

“Go on,” MJ said, swiftly wiping at her own eyes, “I think that’s your cue, Daddy.”

“No, MJ, I’m not just going to leave you. I’ll stay and…”

“Peter,” she interrupted, “I’m probably just going to go to sleep anyway. And there’ll be paperwork and stuff you need to fill out. Go. I’ll be okay.”

Peter hesitated. Of course, he wanted to go and be with his daughter, introduce her to Tony who he was sure would be badgering the nurses for news as he paced, nervous and impatient, the feeling of being made to wait almost completely alien to the man. But the last thing he wanted was for MJ to feel abandoned; to feel like he didn’t care about her now that their daughter was born. She meant so much more to him than that.

“MJ…”

“Peter. It’s okay,” she said as if somehow reading his thoughts. “This is how I want it to be. Go and be with your daughter.”

“She’s ours…”

“No,” MJ said firmly, shaking her head, “she’s yours. And that _okay_ , Peter. That’s how I want it to be.” She released his hand and smiled, giving his arm a gentle shove. “Go.”

Peter stood in a daze, looking back to MJ’s encouraging eyes before turning and making his way towards the nurse holding his daughter.

Tony had once told him, not long after he and MJ had broken up, that life was full of crossroads. Not everybody could take the same path. And not everybody wanted to. Life was just a cumulation of choices; left here, right there, straight on after that. As Peter gathered up his new-born daughter in his arms, he recognised that this was one of those moments. He was turning right as MJ turned left.

And he wasn’t sure if their paths would ever cross again.

“Shall we take you to see your dad, hon?” the nurse from before asked, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.

“Um, yeah… yes. Please.” Peter replied, following her out of the room and into the quiet hallway. He gave the door to MJ’s room one last glance as it shut softly behind him before joining the nurse as she led him towards wherever Tony was waiting.

“Have you decided on a name?” the nurse asked with a smile as Peter fell into step beside her, the baby in his arms glancing up through half-lidded eyes at the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

Peter stroked his thumb in gentle circles against the blanket his daughter was swaddled in. Despite leaving the sex of the baby to be a surprise, he’d had the possible names picked out for weeks.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled fondly, “her name is Abigail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we jumped forward by a few months in the timeline, I hope you guys didn’t mind that! My plan all along had been to do a second fic as part of the series that fills in the gaps between December and July, is that something you guys would be interested in? Let me know!
> 
> I went with the name Abigail because Google says it means ‘my father’s joy’ in Hebrew which I thought was extremely sweet and fitting! I hope you guys agree!


	4. Monday 21st July 2025

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. The final chapter! 
> 
> Thank you so so so much to everyone who has supported this fic. I truly can't express how grateful I am; every comment and kudos and sub makes my heart so full, you are all so appreciated.
> 
> I’ll be honest, this chap gave me a lot of difficulty, but I think I’m finally happy with how it turned out. I was really stuck between writing what I thought would be better received and more popular, or writing what I wanted to write and what I had planned from the beginning. In the end (thanks to a pep talk from the amazing @ EmilyDavison) I chose to go with what I wanted and what I had planned, and I really hope it doesn’t disappoint. 
> 
> I have two other fics planned for this series so far (although I would love to do more after that also!). One fills in the gaps of this story, looking at the months between December and July, and the other is Peter’s first year+ of being a father. Do you guys have a preference on which you’d prefer to see first? Let me know! (Also, make sure you subscribe to the series if those fics sound like something you’d enjoy!)
> 
> Okay. I'm rambling again. Please enjoy!

The nurse opened the door quietly, ushering Peter and the now dosing baby held in his arms into the room. The private waiting room that Tony had been left in for the last however many hours was plain but comfortable, filled with plush looking armchairs and a well-used coffee table which was littered with trashy tabloid magazines that Peter could tell were months old. It seemed even the most exclusive hospitals still fell victim to the classic waiting room stereotypes.

Tony, who occupied a particularly comfortable looking chair in the corner, leapt to his feet as Peter and the nurse entered the room. The man looked frazzled; hair dishevelled from running his hands through it too many times and clothes rumpled as a result of being sat for so long. The bags under his eyes were indicative of the lateness of the hour – or earliness, depending on how you looked at it – although, Peter had seen them look far worse over the years.

Peter could only imagine what his own appearance was like if this was how Tony looked.

“Pete,” Tony breathed, his eyes fixed to the sleeping bundle in Peter’s arms.

“I’m going to go and get started on the paperwork, leave you two in peace for a little bit. I’ll be back in half an hour or so to help you with a feed and diaper change, but there’s a call button on the wall over there if you need anything before then,” the nurse said kindly, excusing herself and shutting the door behind her.

Peter walked over to Tony slowly once the nurse had left, the elder man’s eyes not leaving Peter’s arms once.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter whispered, a lump building in his throat as he spoke. The feeling that filled his chest now that he was finally reunited with the man who, now along with his daughter, was the most important person in the world to him was indescribable. Warm and safe and perfect. It felt so good to share this moment with Tony. His family. “Meet your granddaughter.” He heard Tony’s breath catch at his words and could see the tears threatening to spill over the man’s eyes. “Abigail,” Peter continued, looking down at the girl and adjusting the angle of his arms slightly, as if to give the baby a better view of the elder man despite the fact that her eyes were closed, “meet your Grandpa Tony.”

“Hey, Abigail,” Tony breathed, matching Peter’s almost reverent tone as he brought up his left hand to stroke the girl’s head gently. He stared down at the baby for a few moments, using a calloused finger to carefully pull the edge of the blanket down slightly, giving himself a better view of his granddaughter’s face. “She’s beautiful, Pete.”

“Do you want to hold her, grandpa?” Peter smiled, meeting Tony’s startled eyes.

Peter could see the flash of fear that flitted across Tony’s face. He was scared. Scared that he wasn’t gentle or soft enough to hold something so delicate and precious. Peter knew because he had felt the same thing. 

“You bet your ass I do, kid,” Tony replied thickly, wiping at his eyes before arranging his arms ready to receive the baby.

“Language,” Peter joked lightly as he transferred Abigail from his arms to Tony’s, sitting down himself in the chair beside them.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, cherishing the moment together.

“Well, Pete,” Tony said, stroking the cheek of the baby cradled in his arms with his thumb, “I never expected to become a grandparent at the ripe old age of fifty-four,” he chuckled wetly, looking up at Peter through mist-filled eyes, “but I’m really fucking glad I am. She’s perfect”

Peter laughed, his own tears spilling over and leaving fat trails down his cheeks that he swiped away quickly.

“You know, we’re really going to have to work on your potty mouth with a baby in the Tower,” Peter joked back, feeling lighter than he had in years.

Tony laughed; bright and open, the kind of laugh that Peter loved to hear from the man, the kind of laugh that only the people closest to Tony ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Peter’s heart was so full of love he was sure it was close to bursting. So much of his life thus far had been devastating; he had lost so many people and experienced more than his fair share of heartache. But this? The birth of his baby girl and being able to share the moment with one of the most important people ever to grace his life? It didn’t make up for everything that he’d been through but it soothed the sting and dulled the ache. His life had a new meaning and a new purpose, and her name was Abigail.

Peter leant sideways over the arm of the chair he was sitting in, allowing his head to fall to the side until it rested on Tony’s shoulder, giving Peter the perfect view of Abigail cradled in the man’s arms.

He felt Tony turn his own head, planting a firm kiss atop Peter’s unruly curls.

“I’m so _so_ proud of you, Pete,” Tony whispered into his hair.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the absolutely perfect moment.

“Thanks, Tony.”

The elder man kissed his head again before turning so that his cheek was resting against Peter’s crown.

“I love you so much, kid”

“I love you, too.”

This was it. This was the happiest moment of Peter’s life. He wished his parents and May and Ben could see him now, to bask in this moment alongside them. But he knew they would be looking down on him. He had Tony and he had Abigail. His forever family. And that was enough.

* * *

Hours passed, and before Peter knew it was just after nine in the morning. After managing a few hours of fitful sleep in between bottle feeds and nappy changes – supervised, of course, by a pair of very patient nurses – he found himself at the nurse’s station, filling out his daughter’s birth certificate and signing paperwork that would allow him to take her home.

_Abigail May Parker-Stark._

Just writing the name of his daughter on the seemingly endless stack of forms made Peter’s heart swell with so much love, the emotion was almost overwhelming.

He was a father. A dad. Daddy to the most gorgeous and perfect little human he’d ever had the opportunity to lay eyes on. It had only been a few hours, but he was so in love with his daughter already. He couldn’t wait to get her home and settled and start living his forever.

But first, he wanted to check on MJ. He had felt terrible leaving her the night before, despite her insistence. He wanted her to know that just because she didn’t want to be involved in Abigail’s life didn’t mean that he wouldn’t always be there for her.

Was it naïve of him to think they could remain friends after everything? Maybe. But if Peter Parker-Stark was anything, it was a trier.

Peter made the short trip down the linoleum clad hallway until he found MJ’s room. Knocking on the closed-door he waited for affirmation that he could enter.

There was no reply.

He knocked again, a little louder, but not obnoxiously so. For all he knew, MJ was still asleep, and as much as he wanted to see her, he would feel awful to know that he’d woken her after such a long and exhausting night.

When the second attempt at knocking garnered no more results than the first, Peter made his way back towards the nurse’s station.

Now that he’d been given confirmation he could take Abigail home he was keen to do so, but not without making sure that MJ was okay first.

“Excuse me,” he said to the elderly nurse sat behind the station. He didn’t recognise her; she hadn’t been part of MJ and Abigail’s private team. “Do you know where the girl in N102 is? I’ve just knocked but there was no answer, has she been moved or something?”

She smiled kindly, acknowledging his question with a hum as she clicked a couple of things on her tablet.

“N102, N102… ah! Here we go,” she said, pressing a few more buttons. “Michelle Jones, is it?” Peter nodded. “Hmm, she hasn’t been moved. I’m afraid it looks like she’s already been discharged. Says here she left a couple of hours ago.”

“What? She…she can’t have been discharged already, she gave birth, like, a few hours ago!”

The nurse scanned her tablet’s display for a few more seconds before replying. “It appears that she discharged herself,” she said, casting Peter a sympathetic look, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Peter stood in disbelief for a moment. The nurse looked like she was about to go back to her work when a bright pink sticky note on a stack of papers caught her eye. “Oh, it looks like she left these for you though,” she smiled, passing Peter the documents.

The paperwork. The paperwork that MJ and her mother had agreed to sign to relinquish all custody over the baby. Flicking through the stack quickly, Peter noted that every dotted line had been initialled and signed perfectly.

Peter stuttered out a brief thank you to the nurse before striding quickly down the corridor, coming to a halt just outside the room he’d been occupying for the last few hours with Tony and Abigail.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket quickly, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that it still had some charge left, and selected MJ’s name from his list of contacts.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

Nothing.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh before trying again.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

Nothing.

Peter bit back a groan of frustration. Why would MJ leave without saying anything? Was she really so determined to exile herself from their daughter’s life that she felt the need to sneak away?

He decided to change tact, tapping out a quick text instead.

Peter: _hey mj, the nurse told me that youd discharged yourself??? we’re just getting ready to head back to the tower but I just wanted to check you were okay, call me when you can_

He hit send but didn’t even have a chance to slip the device back into his pocket before he heard the familiar _ping_. He unlocked the screen and…

_Message failed to send._

Peter wasn’t an idiot. He knew what unanswered calls and undelivered messages meant.

MJ had blocked his number.

But _why_?

The realisation that this must have been MJ’s plan all along hit Peter all at once, knocking the breath out of him. It all made sense. She didn’t want anything to do with Abigail – MJ had made that crystal clear from the start, despite Peter’s continued protests. And now, by association, she didn’t want anything to do with him. 

The overwhelming confusion and worry that had swallowed Peter whole was quickly replaced by hot frustration and anger. He had never agreed with MJ’s decision, but he had tried his best to understand it, to accept it. It was her body and it was her choice and that was fine. But to just leave the hospital without saying goodbye? To block Peter’s number when all he wanted to do was make sure the mother of his child was okay?

That hurt.

Peter blinked back tears, the stark reality of being a single father _finally_ , after so many months, sinking in. Until now, it had all been theory; planning and speculation, but now it was real. The tether of pregnancy that had bound the two of them together for months had finally been severed.

So, MJ didn’t want to be involved.

Fine.

Peter and Abigail would be fine on their own.

They had Tony, who Peter knew would never leave him. They had Pepper and Rhodey and Happy. Even Bruce, who had been living on his own private floor of the Tower since The Blip. They would be fine.

They would be fine.

Peter tried to push thoughts of MJ away, taking a deep breath, and shouldering open the door that would lead him to Tony and his daughter.

The aforementioned man was sat with Abigail in his arms, rocking and shushing the little girl in low tones, totally absorbed in his granddaughter’s presence, when Peter stepped into the room.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said softly, looking up, his expression becoming concerned as he took in Peter’s flustered appearance, “everything okay?”

“MJ’s gone,” Peter sighed, flopping down into the chair beside Tony. “She discharged herself this morning and she’s blocked my number. She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony sighed sincerely.

“It’s fine, it’s… it’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t know I’d be doing this alone it’s just… I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t expect her to leave like this.”

“I know, buddy.” Tony, balancing Abigail in his left arm reached out his Iron Arm to give Peter’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, meeting the kid’s eyes. “But you know you’re not doing this alone.”

Peter nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

Of course, rationally, he knew that. In the months leading up to the birth of his daughter, his little found family of Pepper, Rhodey and Happy had been nothing but supportive, but none more so than Tony. Peter wasn’t ashamed to admit that he honestly didn’t know what he would do without the man. He knew he would have Tony – and the man’s unwavering support – by his side forever, but that didn’t make the reality of MJ actually leaving hurt any less.

Tony’s hand stayed on his shoulder until Peter managed to get the tightness of his throat and the heat behind his eyes under control.

Abigail had been alive for barely a few hours; this was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. This _was_ the happiest day of his life. He wasn’t about to let MJ’s disappearing act ruin that. He would check in with F.R.I.D.A.Y. when they got back to the Tower to make sure the girl had made it home okay (thanks to Tony’s very-illegal-and-certainly-extremely-immoral protocol that allowed him to hack into the city-wide surveillance camera footage), but that was it.

MJ was gone. And he had to accept that.

* * *

The car ride back to the Tower was most the most exciting and terrifying hour of Peter’s life.

Exciting because he was taking his perfect baby girl home, and what could get more exciting than that? He couldn’t wait to introduce Abigail to everyone and see his family become just as besotted with his daughter as he already was. He couldn’t wait to sit on the sofa in the living room, with his daughter in his arms, watching the sunset over the New York skyline through the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse. He was even excited for the typically mundane; the two-hourly feeds, the diaper changes, the spit-up and the crying. He couldn’t wait for it _all_.

Terrifying because, even though he trusted Tony’s driving skills implicitly, and even though he had checked, double-checked, and _triple_ -checked the car seat, and even though he was sat in the backseat so that he could keep an eye on Abigail, travelling with a new-born felt incredibly fraught with danger. Were the straps on the car seat tight enough? Was the blanket wrapped around her correctly, not too loose, not too tight? Were her cheeks flushed because she was too warm or because she had just been crying or was it something else entirely that Peter hadn’t even thought of yet?

As it happened, Peter’s worries were unfounded. The drive went as smoothly as could be expected, featuring only one meltdown from the new-born and only three partial meltdowns from Peter and Tony, who as it turned out, was just as nervous about driving with a baby in the car as Peter.

The press waiting for them outside the Tower was an altogether different hurdle they had to overcome – only marginally less frightening than bringing your newborn home for the first time.

It wasn’t like the pair hadn’t been expecting it – the press had been camped outside the Tower for weeks, hoping to catch a whiff of any news or gossip relating to Baby Stark. There were more than usual this morning though. Peter could tell. What was ordinarily a smattering of a few different news stations on the sidewalk, their reporters and camera people killing time with cheap coffee and idle chatter, had turned into a dense crowd alive with activity.

Peter guessed that Tony Stark racing out of the Tower in a people carrier with blacked-out windows late the previous night had probably been a giveaway to the press that something was afoot.

 _Praise Jesus, Thor and anyone else willing to listen for the Tower’s private underground garage_ , Peter thought. They just had to get there.

Tony manoeuvred the car as quickly but as carefully as he could through the crowd. Peter could see his hand twitching to press on the horn, but a quick glance in the rear-view mirror told him that Abigail was managing to sleep peacefully through all the ruckus, so he very sensibly refrained.

Happy and his team of security were in the thick of the hoard, herding people away from the car as best they could, allowing Tony to creep forward inch by inch. But even with security, the car was practically surrounded.

Peter leant over the car seat his daughter was situated in, using his body as a shield against the flash of cameras that pressed up against the tinted windows, hoping to catch the first picture of Tony Stark’s elusive adopted son and his baby. Tony had designed the tinting himself, ensuring it was impenetrable to any cameras or recording devices for this exact scenario, but Peter still thought it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

He could hear the reporters shouting question after question, all directed at Tony.

_“Mr Stark, are your son and grandchild in there with you?”_

_“Where have you been all night, Mr Stark? Was your grandchild born last night?”_

_“Is that a_ Baby on Board _bumper sticker? Does that mean that the baby is in there with you, Mr Stark?”_

_“Mr Stark, do you have any comment?”_

“Bunch of vultures, I swear to God,” Tony muttered as they finally reached the ramp that would take them to the Tower’s underground garage.

Leaning back in his seat, Peter let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Yeah, it’s really making me look forward to my birthday next month,” he sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a second.

He knew Tony would be throwing him a sympathetic look from the front seat, he could practically feel it burning into him even with his eyes closed.

It was common knowledge between the pair that Tony felt immense guilt over the fact that, thanks to him, Peter would be press fodder by this time next month. It sucked really, there was no refuting it. And Peter couldn’t deny that he wasn’t looking forward to it, especially now he had Abigail to think about. But as he often pointed out to Tony, it was _also_ thanks to him that Peter was alive. That he was loved and supported and cared for. Being in the public eye as a person of immense interest was a small price to pay, in reality.

Peter opened his eyes, meeting Tony’s in the rear-view mirror, and flashing the elder man a warm smile that Peter hoped would alleviate at least some of the man’s perpetual guilt.

They looked to each other, sharing a moment in a silent language they had been developing and perfecting since even before May had gotten ill. Peter loved this about Tony; the connection he felt to the man. How one look could say so much, could communicate the endless love and support that Tony offered up willingly to Peter every minute of every day. It was what Peter looked for in the audience during Decathalon competitions to reassure him when their team was behind and he was having a crisis of confidence. It was what he looked for in a crowded room when he needed reassurance and comfort that everything was okay before his sensitive Spidey-Senses had the chance to dial up past eleven. Tony had the power to pull Peter back from the edge or give him the confidence to jump, and Peter loved him for it. 

It was a stark contrast from the man that had flown a fifteen-year-old kid Germany years ago, who kept Peter at arm's length and hid his emotions behind the tinted lenses of his signature glasses. And, like so many times before, Peter felt an overwhelming sense of privilege that he was one of the few people in the world that ever got to see this side of the infamous Tony Stark. And now, a new feeling bloomed; strong and unrelenting gratitude that his daughter would grow up with such a man in her life.

Peter helped Tony unpack the car, draping the bags over the man’s Iron Arm, before unhooking Abigail’s car seat and carrying her towards the elevator, which accended automatically once both men had entered, thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Peter made his way to the living room after the elevator doors opened, placing the car seat on the floor before unbuckling the now dosing Abigail and cradling the baby against his chest.

His baby.

It still felt weird to even think about.

He was a dad.

He still couldn’t believe it.

There was a tiny little human in his arms, perfect and as yet unmarred by the cruelties of the universe. And it was his job now, his purpose, to keep her safe and make her laugh and help her learn and grow. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the qualifications for such a job, but he would do his damndest not to let his baby girl down.

Tony, having put the hospital bags away in the nursery, found Peter stood in the living room, Abigail in his arms as he gently rocked her, swaying slightly from side to side.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted, moving to stand next to Peter, “how’s she doing? The assholes out there didn’t scare her did they?”

“Nah, she’s okay. She’s just having a little snooze, aren’t you baby?” Peter replied, looking down at Abigail with adoration in his eyes. “It’s been a couple of hours since her last feed so I’m sure she’ll be screaming the place down in no time, ready for more,” Peter chucked.

Tony smiled. Fatherhood suited his kid. “Must take after her dad in the appetite department,” he winked.

“I wonder if that’s the only thing she inherited from me,” Peter commented darkly.

Tony frowned. The subject of Peter mutated DNA and, more specifically, it’s ability to be inherited genetically, had been a hot topic in the months leading up to Abigail’s birth. Tony, Peter, Bruce, and even Dr Cho had spent hours discussing the possibility of Peter’s child inheriting some of his spider abilities. The group’s leading theory was that thanks to the spider bite altering Peter’s DNA completely, it was likely that Abigail would inherit at least some kind of abilities, but knowing which and to what degree was basically impossible thanks to the uniqueness of the situation.

The team, reluctant to subject a newborn to invasive tests, had agreed that their plan of action once she was born would be to keep a close eye on her and to look out for any signs of abilities that might manifest as she grew. Without testing, it was the best they could do for now, although they all felt uneasy about being in the dark.

“Well, she definitely inherited your mop,” Tony joked, a halfhearted attempt to bring Peter back from the precipice of panic he could see brewing within the boy. He stroked his left hand across the mess of chestnut curls that adorned Abigail’s head to prove his point. The baby squirmed at his touch. She was awake now, and blinking up at the two men with unfocused eyes, although not crying out for her bottle as Peter predicted just yet.

“Poor kid,” Peter teased, accepting Tony’s poorly-disguised lifeline, “it’ll take her years to learn how to style it.”

“Yeah, I see that’s a skill you’re still working on,” Tony laughed, ruffling Peter’s hair and making the strands stand up haphazardly.

“Excuse you! I am a style icon!”

“Whoever told you that is a dirty liar and needs to be brought to justice immediately, I’ll go get my suit…”

“Tony!” Peter laughed, nudging the elder man with his shoulder lightly.

Tony held his hands up in surrender just as Abigail let out a pitiful grizzle.

“I think that’s baby talk for ‘my dinner reservation was at noon and it’s now five minute’s past, where the hell is my bottle?’” Tony said, watching as the baby in Peter’s arms scrunched her face.

Peter rolled his eyes, bouncing his daughter. “Please don’t insinuate my daughter is a Karen.” Tony laughed. “Although, I think you’re probably right. Do you mind holding her for a sec while I make one?”

“Thank God,” Tony sighed dramatically, “I thought you’d never ask. Stop hogging the baby and pass her on over to her favourite grandpa,” Tony continued, making dramatic grabbing motions with his hands.

Peter chuckled but did as he was told. “Look after your grandpa, Abby. Make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble,” Peter whispered conspiratorially to the child, loud enough so that Tony would hear, before making his way to the kitchen.

“Your daddy’s setting you up for a failure there, kiddo,” Tony directed to the fussing baby now cradled in his arms, knowing Peter would be able to hear him. “Your Aunt Pepper and your uncles have been trying to keep me out of trouble for years and look at me. I’m missing an arm. I’m not sure I’d call that a particular success on their part, would you?” Tony smiled down at his granddaughter, who let out a whine. “I knew you’d agree.”

He cradled Abigail in his Iron Arm, using his left hand to pat at the baby’s back gently in an attempt to soothe her until Peter had finished making the bottle. He’d upgraded all his arms months ago so that they maintained a constant temperature that matched his own body temperature at the time. It had been something the genius had been planning for a while, but having a grandbaby on the way had spurred him on. He could hardly subject his grandchild to being held by a cold metal arm now, could he?

“They wanted to come over to see you, you know?” Tony continued, hoping his mindless chatter was helping to distract Abigail from her empty stomach. Could newborns even be distracted? “Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, I mean. Even Brucie, and you know how he hates to be away from his lab. I told them to come tomorrow. I wanted today to be just us. We want to keep you all to ourselves, don’t we? Yes, we do. Yes, we do.”

“Is that true?” Peter asked, reentering the room with a bottle and a muslin cloth in hand.

His timing couldn’t have been better. Abigail began wailing, her chubby cheeks flushing as her tears began to fall freely. Tony passed her back to Peter, who sat down on the leather sofa, shushing the crying baby as he tried to juggle her, the bottle and the cloth in his inexperienced hands. With some assistance from Tony, their ears were spared from further damage as Peter managed to get Abigail to take her bottle.

Tony sat himself down beside Peter, stretching his arm out over the back of the sofa behind the teen, and watched Abigail feed. She wasn’t even twenty-four hours old yet and he was totally enamoured with his beautiful granddaughter.

“Yeah, it is true,” Tony said quietly, not taking his eyes off Abigail. “They can't wait to meet her, obviously. But I thought it would be nice for it to just be the three of us today. An extra day of waiting won't kill them.”

“Thanks, Tony. That… that's actually perfect.”

Tony had this incredible ability to seem to know what Peter wanted and needed before he even knew it himself. Of course, Peter was excited to introduce his daughter to the rest of his family. But after everything; after the birth and MJ and the press… He couldn’t deny that it had all pretty overwhelming. It would be perfect to be able to spend a day getting used to being a dad, just concentrating on Abigail with Tony by his side, with no interference or distractions.

They sat in companionable until Abigail had been fed and winded, just as the nurses at the hospital had shown Peter. As with almost everything in life, the kid was a quick learner. Tony couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him as he watched his kid care for the girl. He was a natural.

With her belly now full, it wasn’t long until Abigail drifted off again, safe in the embrace of Peter’s arms.

The sun was shining brightly over the New York skyline as Tony directed his gaze out of the Tower windows, casting its brilliance over the city and its people. It was a brightness that was reflected in his own mood.

The months leading up to this moment had been difficult, and the last few hours, with MJ leaving, even harder. Peter had been through so much, and Tony knew without a doubt that there was more to come. There always was. But, looking down at the sleeping baby in his kid’s arms, Tony knew, with no uncertainty, that it was all worth it.

Peter was a parent now, and Tony understood from experience what a rollercoaster _that_ particular job could be. But, he knew that his kid would excel. He was Peter Parker-Stark after all; there was nothing his kid couldn’t do. And Tony would be by his side every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! What do you guys think?
> 
> I was nervous about writing MJ out like that, and I know MJ lovers might be a bit upset that I did, but in all honesty when I was first planning this fic I was going to kill her off so at least this way is slightly nicer! 😅 MJ is a complicated character we haven't really had chance to see as much of as we might like, so putting myself in her shoes was difficult. I considered writing her a different exit, but this way just felt right to me. 
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for your support, it really means the world. ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> So... what do we think?!
> 
> (Come chat to me on [Tumblr](https://irondadbxtch.tumblr.com/)!)


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